


Cigarettes and Twist

by PsychoCalixteLove



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: DJ - Freeform, F/F, Nightclub, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:31:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoCalixteLove/pseuds/PsychoCalixteLove
Summary: Beca is the new girl in Germany, and she finds work as a DJ at a local nightclub. Little does she know, the club owner Kommissar is excellent at seducing just about everyone.





	Cigarettes and Twist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Weird girl lol](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Weird+girl+lol).



Kommissar needed a new DJ. That was for sure. She had fired her most recent DJ because he didn’t respect her one rule: No flirting with the boss. The boss was none other than Kommissar, but she went by the title “Kommissar” during club hours to keep her privacy. Though she ran a nightclub, she was very particular about her privacy, like it was the only thing she had left. In essence, her privacy was the only thing she had left. Her dignity was stripped from her when she decided to run a nightclub and her family disowned her because she was gay. What she had now was nothing more than a steady job, a decent apartment, and a hell of a lot of cigarettes. She found that she never needed anything more, except for the occasional one night stand. And she always found someone she wanted, no matter how much they oppose. She just seemed to have a way with people, especially the people who were easy to manipulate. So when a tiny brunette walked into the nightclub during the middle of the day, Kommissar was intrigued. She quickly put out the cigarette she was smoking, and sat up, tossing the paper she was reading on the table. The brunette seemed to be carrying a laptop bag and another bag, which Kommissar assumed were cords.

The brunette looked around, and once she saw Kommissar at the table, she immediately started walking toward her. The brunette stopped in front of her, looked closer at Kommissar, and went wide eyed, a harsh blush creeping into her cheeks. Kommissar folded her arms across her chest, stared back at the girl, then asked, “Kann ich dir helfen?” The girl snapped out of whatever daze she was in, and said back in incorrect German, “Ja, ich bin hier über den DJ wichsen.” The girl seemed to realize her mistake and she corrected herself, “Scheisse! Ich meinte DJ-Job!” Kommissar lightly chuckled at the girl’s slip up, and immediately took her for an American. She motioned to the seat across from her, and the girl sat down, red faced and embarrassed. “Would it help if I spoke English? Because you seem to have a hard time with German,” Kommissar inquired, sitting up straight. The girl momentarily gasped at Kommissar’s height, then said, “Yes, please. That would be a godsend, but then again you are a goddess. Damn it.”

“Alright,” Kommissar told awkwardly, clearly disturbed by the underhanded compliment. “So, you’re here about the open DJ position?”

“Yes, I am. And I’m going to assume you’re the gorgeous owner of this club? Fuck, sorry.”

“Yes, I am. You may call me Kommissar.” The girl smiled slightly and nodded her head like she wasn’t expecting a title instead of a name, but Kommissar thought it had more to do with the slip-up compliments.

“My name’s Beca. Beca Mitchell . . . now what?”

“I believe this is the part when you show me some mixes and I decide if you get the job,” Kommissar stated, smirking at Beca. Beca snapped to attention, then pulled out her laptop and headphones hurriedly. “Right, I’m stupid. You’re heavenly, sorry,” Beca admitted, typing in her password. Kommissar watched the girl closely, examining every move she made. While she had a strict rule about flirting, she was curious to see where this went and decided to tell Beca of the rule to see what she would do. “You know, I have only one rule in my club. And that’s to never flirt with me,” Kommissar noted casually. Beca looked up from her laptop screen, where she just pulled up her mixes and started to say before she fixed it, “That’s gonna be hard because you’re . . . I’m really awkward.” Beca blushed dramatically, clearly not used to controlling herself. To avoid another awkward slip-up, she turned the laptop around and slid it to Kommissar. Kommissar picked up the headphones, and went through every mix, analyzing the creative merit of every soundtrack. Once she finished listening to them all, she removed the headphones and told Beca, “Your mixes a very different from ones I’ve heard. And I like different. Can you start tonight?” Beca, taken by surprise, shouted, “What?! I mean, yes. Yes. Thank you.” The two stood, and Beca collected her bags together. She turned back to Kommissar, froze for a second at her surprising height, then slowly took her outstretched hand. She shook her hand, and whispered, “Your hands are so soft. Damn it, sorry.”  _ This was going to be too easy _ , Kommissar thought.

********

About a month into the job and Beca has made somewhat of a name for herself, and the club. More people came to the club, and there was a longer line out front every night. All because of Beca’s mash ups. Kommissar thought she made the right choice when she hired Beca, for more than one reason. The two only had one encounter last week, and that was a simple touch. Kommissar went to the DJ station where Beca was and came up behind her. Beca didn’t know what was going on until she felt Kommissar’s hand on her waist. The warmth burned through the thin shirt she was wearing, and Beca found it hard to react the way she did, which earned her the hot whisper, “That’s not all I can do, Maus.” Beca ran through that moment in her head as she looked out over the crowd and caught Kommissar’s gaze from the bar. Ever since their moment, Kommissar sat at the same barstool, drank the same drink, and smoked a cigarette while she admired Beca from a distance. Now Kommissar had Beca staring directly at her. This was her chance to advance on the cute DJ. Still holding her gaze, she went up to the DJ station and immediately turned Beca around, pinning her to the table by her hips. Beca slipped her headphones off her head and followed along with Kommissar. She wrapped her arms around Kommissar’s neck, and let Kommissar plant firm kisses on her lips.

After a few kisses, their tongues got involved, battling for dominance. Beca lost, and Kommissar moved to kiss and bite at Beca’s neck. When Kommissar knew Beca was hot and ready, she slid her lips up Beca’s neck, stopping by her ear to whisper, “Meet me in my office when you’re finished here.” With that, Kommissar removed herself from Beca and walked back down to the dance floor nonchalantly. Beca sat there, panting and wanting, and she thought of what would happen if she did as she was told.  _ Didn’t she have a strict policy about flirting with her? Maybe that didn’t apply to straight up sex? _ Beca wiped her face with her hands as she tried to calm herself down, and when that didn’t work, she got a drink from the bar. The bartender there told her, “Be warned. To all DJ’s in Germany, she’s known as the DJ Seducer. And if one didn’t satisfy her the way she wanted . . . just hope you do.” She quickly gulped down the whiskey and went back to her station for the next hour. After the club closed, Beca packed her bags up and went to Kommissar’s office in the back. She knocked on the door, asking, “Kommissar? Are you in here?” She opened the door fully to see Kommissar in her chair, leaning back. Her legs were crossed at the knee, and she had an arm across her lap holding up her other arm that was holding a lit cigarette.

She was wearing a tight black dress that cut off just above the knee and had an open back, which wasn’t visible to Beca. Her blonde hair was down around her shoulders, almost nothing too special about it except how voluminous it was. She had on heavy eyeliner and mascara that made her blue eyes pop out further, but her lips were completely nude. Beca calmly set her stuff down after she shut the door, and she watched Kommissar take a long drag. She was staring Beca in the eyes while she did so, imagining what she wanted to do to the tiny brunette. She released the smoky breath she held in as she put out the cigarette in the ashtray. Beca stood still and went along with what Kommissar did. Kommissar angled Beca’s face to hers and kissed her fiercely. Their tongues slid into each other’s mouths as Kommissar backed them up against the door and lifted Beca up with her hands under her thighs. She pressed herself into Beca, keeping her up as she got her hands under Beca’s shirt. Beca wrapped her legs around Kommissar’s waist, pulled away from the kisses when she felt Kommissar’s hands on her bare skin and threw her head back against the door. Beca held onto Kommissar’s shoulders as she removed Beca’s shirt and kissed down her stomach, lifting Beca onto her shoulders. Beca could barely breathe when she felt Kommissar undo the button and zipper on her jeans.

Kommissar pulled Beca’s pants down just enough for her to be able to do what she wanted to. Kommissar kissed around Beca’s hips, making her whine and whimper, and Kommissar laughed at Beca’s reactions. Then Kommissar positioned herself correctly and licked at Beca’s clit, teasing her entrance with two fingers. Beca moaned lightly, saying, “Kommi-Kommissar.” Kommissar pulled away slightly and said, “Nein, Maus. My name is Luisa.” Beca looked down at Luisa and nodded before biting her lip. Luisa went back to licking Beca’s clit roughly and pushed two fingers into her. Beca moaned loudly, pulling Luisa’s hair a bit, and Luisa groaned at the pain. Beca twitched under Luisa’s ministrations and struggled to control her body reactions. Her breathing became steadily faster, she bucked against Luisa when Luisa hit her sweet spot, and she was gasping, “Luisa! Luisa!” Soon enough, Luisa sucked hard on Beca’s clit, and Beca came severely. Beca let out one last breathy moan, and Luisa cleaned her up before letting her down. Beca couldn’t stand on her own because her legs felt like jelly and she clung to Luisa desperately. “You know I’ve never been one to like the smell of cigarette smoke, but you make it sexy,” Beca admitted, breathing in Luisa’s scent deeply. Luisa cupped Beca’s cheek, caressing her skin, smiled, and said, “Let’s go back to my place where we can get more privacy.”

********

Luisa gasped as Beca removed her fingers from her now dripping core, and watched breathlessly while Beca sensually licked them clean. No one had ever done that to her, let alone get her that high. She had always came, but never like that. Beca took her high, teased her there for what felt like forever, then finished her off with quick, hard thrusts. She never felt so alive. Beca chastely kissed her, and whispered, “Just like that, America wins.” Beca rolled off of Luisa, but stayed close, laying on her side propped up on her elbow. “So this is a battle now, is it?” Luisa questioned, reaching for a cigarette. She lit it quickly, taking a drag and releasing it. “A losing one for you,” Beca taunted, taking the cigarette from Luisa. Luisa watched as Beca slowly took a drag, the tip burning a bright orange, and she said, “You can have your own if want one.” Beca just blew the smoke in Luisa’s face, kissed her, and told her, “I’d rather have yours.” Luisa licked her lips and shook her head. “Is that so? Well, get ready to have me again little Maus . . . ” Luisa flipped on top of Beca, straddling her waist, stole the cigarette back, and finished the thing off. She held the smoke in until she put the cigarette out and bent over to breathe into Beca’s ear, “Because I don’t like losing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Kann ich dir helfen? - May I help you?  
> Ja, ich bin hier über den DJ wichsen. - Yes, I'm here about the DJ jerk off.  
> Scheisse! Ich meinte DJ-Job! - Shit! I meant DJ job!


End file.
